Symphonic Artistry
by Khandy Raynne
Summary: An aloof artist sees through the facade of a depressed pianist. They become one another's muse, but also something much more.
1. Chapter 1: The Pianist

**Symphonic Artistry**

**Chapter 1: The Pianist**

* * *

Her fingers dance across the ivory keys of the grand piano. She sat upright as she played, her eyes closed. The music was smooth and soft. After a few experimental notes, she opened her eyes and stopped playing. Next to her on her stool was a pad and pen. She immediately wrote down a few notes and then went back into her position of solitude. This went on for hours.

After the third hour, her tranquility was interrupted by the sound of someone entering her home. "Bulma love, I'm home!" came the voice of her boyfriend.

Bulma Briefs stiffened at his voice. She did not turn her head as she heard him enter the parlor. Instead, she started to stack her papers. "You're home early. I haven't even chosen what we're going to eat for dinner yet," she said quietly.

Frieza Cold, her boyfriend, walked in. He looked at her as she hurriedly put her sheet music in order. "I thought I'd come home early and surprise you." He produced a small box out of his pocket. Bulma looked at it as he held it to her face. "Go on and take it," he said.

The pianist took the box and opened in. Inside were a pair of sapphire earrings that easily matched the color of her eyes. Bulma pasted a smile on her face. "Thank you, Frieza," she said. Frieza nodded and began to walk out of the room. "Is there anything you would want me to have Puella make?" she asked before he left the room.

"I'm not in the mood for anything particular. Anything you want is fine, Bulma," Frieza said as he left the room.

Bulma sighed and sat the jewelry box on the top of the piano. _It matters, Frieza. It always matters_, she thought dismally.

After arranging her papers, Bulma made her way through the brownstone she shared with Frieza. The place used to be her parents'. When Dr. and Mrs. Briefs had passed, they left their cherished brownstone to Bulma along with a hefty inheritance. It was not like Bulma needed it, though. As a world-renowned pianist, she made her own fair share of money. When she had suggested donating a large sum of it to charity, Frieza had scoffed at the idea.

When Bulma walked in the kitchen, Puella the maid was cleaning the counters. The brownstone was very old-fashioned and it still had the same counters and cupboards as when it was first built. They had been furbished and refurbished a few times over the years, but they still looked good as new. The only things to change was the stove and refrigerator.

"Good evening, Miss Bulma. Did Mr. Cold tell you what he wants for dinner tonight?" she asked. Puella was a portly woman with a very dignified air about her. Even though she was a simple maid, she carried herself with more elegance than most socialites. She was also like a surrogate mother to Bulma, having cared for her when she was a child.

"Of course he didn't tell me, Puella. I suppose something simple will do for tonight. Just make sure it's something that can be made in a relatively short period of time," Bulma replied. She leaned against the counter near the refrigerator. "I'll take my dinner in my room, though."

Puella raised an eyebrow. "If that is what you want," she said.

Bulma nodded and left the kitchen. She went up the stairs to her bedroom. She had a concert tomorrow night and she needed to rest. She always played better when she was well-rested. Besides, she had been writing music all day and her eyes were weary. When she got to her bedroom, she saw that Frieza had already been through it. His suit, shoes, and shirt were strewn across the floor, as if he'd just stepped out of them as he entered the room. Sighing, Bulma began to clean up after him.

Frieza came out of the bathroom dressed in lounging clothes. He smiled when he saw Bulma cleaning up. "I called some of my associates over. I hope Puella is making enough food."

"Perhaps you should go tell her that, Frieza," Bulma said as she discarded his clothes in a hamper.

"I will. But, could you go pick up some of that lovely vodka I tried the other day? I believe we only have enough left for one glass."

The pianist sighed. "Frieza, I just bought that vodka two days ago. Surely you could not have gone through three bottles in that short amount of time." Bulma looked at him. Looking back on the past couple of days, she could see how Frieza could have gone through all that alcohol. "I really wish you'd stop drinking so much. It isn't healthy."

Frieza shot her a look. "I'll decide what's healthy for me. Just go get the damn vodka." He hit her lightly on her bottom, making her jump a bit. "It's getting dark. You had better hurry," he said as he left the room.

Bulma muttered a string of curses under her breath. If Frieza heard half of the things she said when he angered her, she wouldn't be able to play the piano for weeks, let alone show her face outside of her bedroom. She went in search of her purse and coat. When she made her way downstairs, she could smell Puella's cooking. She could also hear Frieza laughing jovially. He seemed to be on the phone. Rolling her eyes, Bulma went out the front door and down the stoop of the brownstone.

* * *

It was a blustery evening. The streetlights had come on as the sun was setting. The crisp autumn air made Bulma shiver momentarily. She crossed her arms and headed up the street. The liquor store was three blocks up the street. Usually Bulma would call a cab, but she felt like walking.

After picking up another five bottles of vodka, Bulma took her time getting back to her home. She took the time to look at her surroundings. She noticed the lights on in what she knew to be an unoccupied brownstone. She saw a few men carrying rectangular objects wrapped in paper up the stoop. Squinting in the darkness, she noticed a familiar face. "Goku!"

The man with unruly hair turned to face Bulma. He almost dropped what he was carrying as he tried to wave at her. "Hi, Bulma!" He sat the wrapped object down and walked down the stoop. They met on the sidewalk. "I forgot you lived over here."

"I've been a horrible friend. I haven't seen you and Chichi since your wedding. That was what? Four years ago?" Bulma asked.

"Five, actually. You shouldn't blame yourself, though. We haven't exactly been coming to visit either. Friendship is a two-way street. How's Frieza?" Goku smiled at her.

"Well, we're still together, if that's what you're asking. We're still going strong," she answered while looking away. She knew Goku noticed her attitude towards the question, so she decided to immediately change the subject. "Are you moving down here?"

Goku looked back at the working men. "Uh, no. I'm helping a friend move in here. He just bought this brownstone. These are his paintings we're carrying in right now," he said. "It never dawned on me that you lived over here, too. I guess it completely skipped my mind."

Bulma looked down at the rectangular package. "So he likes art, eh?"

"He has to on some level. He's an artist and a photographer." Goku snapped. "Why don't you come in and meet him? You guys will be neighbors. You might as well say hello." He grabbed Bulma's arm before she could say anything in protest. He pulled her up the stoop and into the brownstone. Bulma put the bottles she was carrying down by the front door.

"Goku, I don't want to intrude. I'm sure I can meet him on my own..."

"Kakarrot, what the hell are you doing?"

Bulma blinked. It was not often she heard someone use Goku's real name. Only his father and brother ever called him by it. She grew up going to school with him and had not known his real name until they were almost in high school. She then turned her attention to who had spoken. He was not as tall as Goku, but his demeanor made him seem taller. Bulma decided it was either that or his peculiar hairstyle. _I wonder how he gets it to stand straight up like that_, she thought idly.

"Kakarrot, I'm not paying you to slack off," he said. Then he noticed Bulma. His attitude did not change. He wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something offensive and glared at her. "Who's she?"

Goku sighed. "Vegeta, this is Bulma Briefs. She's one of my closest friends and your new neighbor. Bulma, this is Vegeta Ouji. He's a college buddy of mine," he said. He moved out of the way so Bulma and Vegeta could see each other.

He was good-looking; Bulma would give him that. His facial expression had not softened after the initial introduction. Bulma took the moment of silence to step forward and extend her hand. "Hi. Nice to meet you." She held it out, waiting for him. He looked down at her hand and shook it roughly. His grip was almost too firm. Bulma pulled away with a nervous smile. "Careful there. I make a living with my hands."

Vegeta smirked. "So do I."

"That's right! Bulma, you have a concert soon, don't you? Chichi did mention she saw a poster for it." Goku looked back at Vegeta. "Bulma is a pianist."

"I have one tomorrow. I can get you and Chichi in if you don't already have tickets," Bulma said, tearing her eyes away from Vegeta. He was burning holes in her with his eyes. He was not looking at her with a lustful eye as so many men do on a regular basis. Instead, it was a critical eye. It was as if he was deciding something.

Goku clasped his hands together. "That'd be wonderful! I'm sure Chichi would love to see you! How about you, Vegeta? You wanna come?"

Vegeta cut his sharp eyes to Goku. "I have better things to do with my time than attend a concert, Kakarrot. I don't have time for leisure outings." He turned and walked away from the two, directing the other movers where to put things.

Goku scratched the back of his head and faced Bulma again. "Vegeta's always cranky like that. You've gotta get used to his attitude. He's a big softy on the inside, though. At least it'll be nice seeing Frieza again."

Bulma gasped. "Frieza!" She turned and hurried out of the house. She could hear Goku calling after her. "I'm sorry but I have to go, Goku! I'll put your names on the guests' list for tomorrow, ok?" She picked up the alcohol she left on the stoop and waved goodbye as she rushed next door.

Goku stopped smiling as he looked at the brownstone Bulma had disappeared into. He got the feeling there was something Bulma was not telling him. In the five years that they went without seeing one another, something had changed. She never used to be so demure and reserved. Bulma was known for being loud and vivacious. She had always been the life of the party, not a shrinking violet. Goku thought she was a shadow of herself now. _I could just be overthinking things. I haven't seen her in so long, after all. Maybe Chichi can get a better read on her_, he thought. He turned and went back to helping the movers.

* * *

Bulma came through the entrance a little more noisily than she thought. She hurried to the kitchen. Puella was there, finishing up the meal. "You're almost done with dinner?"

"Yes. Mr. Frieza is getting impatient. His friends have come over."

"Which ones?" Bulma asked as she hurriedly put some of the beers in the freezer.

"Dodoria and Zarbon, I believe."

Bulma shuddered. Dodoria was a pervert, but Zarbon was decent enough. He seemed to be Frieza's voice of reason most times. "Has he been drinking?" She did not need to specify who she was talking about. She saw Puella nod slowly. "I'll take my food in my..."

"You're back late. I know it didn't take that long just to pick up some vodka." Frieza walked in the kitchen. He still had a bottle in his hand. "Where've you been for so long?"

She briefly contemplated lying to him. She made her way past him and into the hall towards the stairs. "I just got caught talking to the new neighbor. He seemed nice. He's an artist," she said, not looking at Frieza. She knew he was still following her, though. "I didn't mean to be so late. I just lost track of the time. I've really got to get some rest now."

Frieza grabbed her arm and pulled her back down the steps to him. Bulma tried not to show how disgusted she was from the smell of alcohol coming from him. He opened his mouth to say something. Before he could, one of his friends yelled from the living room downstairs. He stared at Bulma a moment longer before releasing her.

Bulma watched him go back down the stairs, calling back to his friend. She let out a silent sigh. _Saved by Dodoria. Never thought I'd see the day_, she thought with a wry smile. She headed upstairs and to her bedroom.

* * *

Bulma's eyes popped open a few hours later. There was something going on downstairs. She had only one guess as to whom was making such a ruckus. She glanced at her alarm clock. It was just past 2am. _I don't have time for this_. Bulma tried to roll over and go to sleep. However, she knew that Puella was long gone by this time of night. _Damned if I do and damned if I don't_.

The pianist pulled herself out of her warm bed and picked up her peignoir from a chair across the room. She put it on in one fluid movement as she made her way to the door of the bedroom. As she opened the door, the full sounds of Frieza's drunken rant echoed throughout the empty stairwell. Bulma sighed and headed down two flights of stairs.

She found Frieza sitting on the stairs, singing drunkenly. The song was too garbled for her to understand any of the lyrics, let alone to figure out what the tune was. "Frieza dear, it's very late. Come on up to bed." As much as she hated it, Bulma knew he would want to wake up next to her when he sobered.

Frieza glared up at her. He was usually so proper and kept. Only a few knew what he was like when he had too much liquor in his system. An empty bottle of the new vodka was rolling around on the landing. "Allo, love. Shouldn' ya be sleepin'?" he asked. He slowly got to his feet. "Ya griped 'bout bein' up too late. Why're you down 'ere?" He took one step up, holding on to the railing.

A thought crossed Bulma's mind. For one instant she had one of the most violent and heinous thoughts in her life. She immediately cleared her mind of such a thought and then blinked. "Frieza, let's get you to bed now." She reached for him.

"I don' wanna." He held her away from him. Then he noticed what she had on. "Yer lookin' real pretty right now. Yer wearin' that nightie I like so much." Frieza tried to pull her back towards him.

"Darling, not tonight." Bulma countered. She held him at a distance, but tried to pull him up the stairs simultaneously. Frieza moved far quicker than she expected and tried to kiss her. Bulma immediately pushed him away. "Not tonight, Frieza. You're drunk. You need rest. Now come to bed."

Bulma's soft tone clearly did not sit well with Frieza. He backhanded her. She hit the wall and slid down it to sit. Before she could move, Frieza was on top of her. His breath was paralyzing to her. The fruity vodka smell was sickening. Did he really down the entire bottle? She took a deep breath through her mouth and pushed Frieza off of her with all her might. She got to her feet and turned away from him. She felt him pull on her peignoir and she turned and yanked the cloth out of his grasp.

"Ya've gotten a bit bold tonight, haven't ya?" Frieza yelled up at her. He got his bearings and went after her.

The pianist ran up the stairs and towards their shared bedroom. He was moving faster than she gave him credit for. That only meant he'd sobered up a bit during their scuffle. Sober Frieza was worse than drunk Frieza. Bulma reached their bedroom and slammed the door behind her. She locked it, ran to her bathroom and shut and locked the door. She paced, listening to Frieza attempt to get in their room. When he finally got into their bedroom, he marched right to her bathroom.

"Bulma, why must we go through this dance yet again?" he called to her. His slurred speech had almost completely disappeared. Bulma was amazed at how quickly he could sober up when he wanted to. He banged on the bathroom door, making her jump. "Bulma?"

_He never yells. I think I wouldn't be so afraid if he were a screaming lunatic. But he never yells_, Bulma thought as he began hitting the door. Usually, she opened it by now. Tonight, she just backed up towards the far wall of the bathroom. Eventually the door gave way and Frieza marched right on in. He gave her a lopsided smirk and advanced slowly.

* * *

Vegeta's eyes opened slowly. He was tired, but there was something going on outside his bedroom window. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. It sounded as though someone had slammed a door behind his brownstone. He walked to his window and peered outside of it. There was no one in his backyard, but there was light coming from the yard next door.

The blue-haired woman from earlier was standing on her porch. The porch light was shining on her back. She was dressed in her night clothes. Her hair was disheveled and she was trying in vain to straighten it out some. Vegeta continued to watch her for a moment as she tried to light a cigarette with shaking hands. When she finally lit it, she took a very long drag from it.

Vegeta glanced at his alarm clock beside his bed. _Three in the morning. Why is she still up if she has a concert tomorrow_? He leaned against the window. _She said her name was Bulma_... After a moment, Vegeta unlocked his window and opened it.

"Shouldn't you be asleep, woman?"

Her shoulders tensed and she nearly dropped her cigarette. She looked up towards Vegeta and squinted. "Um, Mr. Ouji?"

"Call me Vegeta."

"Um, okay. Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I just needed a smoke and my... partner prefers if I don't do it in the house. You know? Because of the smell."

Vegeta grunted. "Those cancer sticks will rot you from the inside out," he said.

Bulma smiled before chuckling softly. "I don't do it often. Sometimes it just helps me to relax. The alternative is going inside and pouring a glass of vodka. Then again, I'm sure there's little to none left for me to even get a slight buzz." She said the last part sarcastically and laced with derision. She took another long drag from the cigarette before dropping it and putting it out on the porch. "I should try to get more rest. Perhaps I'll see you tonight."

He said nothing else as she went back inside her own home. _Who the hell gets up in the middle of the night to smoke? Is she mad_? Vegeta mused. She seemed so reserved and demure, but from what Goku had been going on and on about, she was anything but. _Clearly the woman has changed over time_. Shaking his head, he shut his window and went back to bed.

* * *

Bulma arrived at the concert hall earlier than usual. As instructed earlier that morning, her personal assistant and best friend was there waiting for her. Juu Gero stood on the steps of the concert hall with her arms crossed. She watched as Bulma began to ascend the steps. When they were level, Bulma let out a long sigh.

Juu raised an eyebrow. "Long night?" she asked.

"A little. I was up late finishing a new piece. Are my clothes for tonight here?" Bulma took off her sunglasses and squinted at Juu in the bright sunlight. Juu nodded as Bulma put her sunglasses in her purse. "Then let's go see them."

As the two headed towards the dressing rooms, Juu began going through a list of things Bulma needed done before the concert started in three hours. "Your makeup artist will be here in about thirty minutes. He wants to see the dress so that he can think of a look he wants for you."

"I always wear black. What's to change about that?"

"But you never wear black makeup, or haven't you noticed that?" Juu watched Bulma shake her head. "Well, the chosen designers each sent two dresses for you to pick through. You'll need one for the concert and one for the after-party."

"Do I have to attend the after-party? Is it really necessary?" Bulma whined as they came to elevators. Juu just narrowed her icy blue eyes at Bulma. "Fine. I just don't feel like putting on the _smile and wave_ act tonight. I just want to play the piano and go home. They can have all this _starlet_ stuff."

Juu rolled her eyes as they entered the elevator. "Well, when you magically forget how to play the piano and that pretty face loses its luster, then you can go back to being normal. Until that day comes, you will be a _starlet_." She noticed Bulma's melancholy expression. "Listen, Bulma. I know you hate that glamour part of this. I hate it too. I'd like nothing more than to go get a drink at some bar filled with hot men and loud music instead of a stuffy after-party. But I don't make these decisions."

The two came to the dressing room. When they entered, Bulma was a little shocked by the layout. The room was filled with red and white roses in glass vases. Bulma moved over to one and picked up the card. She rolled her eyes and sighed when she saw who they were from.

Juu's nose wrinkled at the sight of the flowers. "I thought you told Frieza you hate roses."

Bulma sat the card back in one of the bouquets. "I sure did. As with all things I tell Frieza, it goes through one ear and out the other. Make sure I end up with one of these in my hair. He'll be saddened if I don't show him that I appreciate the thought."

"That's all that counts, isn't it?" Juu's tone did not go unnoticed by Bulma. She glared at her friend. Juu raised her hands in surrender. "I'm just saying that I think you can do so much better than Frieza."

"Your opinion is duly noted. Let's pick one of these dresses."

* * *

The view from the private box in the concert hall was beautiful. Goku looked over the edge, watching people file in. They had a great view of the stage from their position. A hand grabbed hold of Goku's arm and pulled him down into his seat. He smiled and looked at his wife. "What is it?"

"Don't hang over the edge like that, Goku. What happens if you lose your balance?" Chichi chided. She took her cellphone out of her wristlet and looked at it. "No messages from the babysitter," she mumbled. Goku placed a hand over her cellphone and she glanced up at him.

"Chi, Gohan will be fine. Just relax. Everything will be fine."

Chichi pouted a bit. "I'm just not used to being away from him. He's just six months old."

"All the more reason why you need this night out. You haven't relaxed since you had Gohan. I promise he'll be fine for the night. Just enjoy yourself, please." Goku took her phone from her. Chichi nodded and smiled at him.

The door to the suite opened behind them. Goku turned to see Vegeta saunter inside, looking irritated. "Oh hi, Vegeta. I'm didn't think you'd come."

Vegeta sneered as he sat down beside Goku. "Where's your brat?" he asked, looking over at Chichi. Since he'd been born, Vegeta had not seen Chichi without the baby glued to her hip.

"A concert is no place for a baby. He's at home with a sitter. Goku seems to think he'll be just fine without me for one night. I don't quite agree with that but I've no choice but to _relax_," Chichi said.

"Hn." Vegeta said no more and instead listened to Goku and Chichi chatter beside him. He watched as the hall filled to capacity. The audience seemed to murmur with an intense anticipation for the concert that was to come. There were quite a few important figures and famous people in the audience. Vegeta was happy that he'd decided to come in the back way. He did not do the _red carpet_, thinking it to be a waste of time.

"Well, look who it is..."

Goku turned around in his seat to see Frieza entering. As he usually was, he was dressed perfectly for the event. Goku stood to greet him. "It's been a while, Frieza. How have you been?"

"I've been great. Bulma didn't tell me she'd invited anyone," he said as he took a seat beside Chichi. He ignored the glare Chichi gave him. She'd never much cared for Frieza and had let him know it every chance she got. "She should've told me. I would've definitely seen to it that you all had refreshments."

"We're fine, but thank you. Oh! Frieza, this is my friend Vegeta. He's actually your new neighbor." Goku moved to the left so that Frieza could see Vegeta. Vegeta turned his head and immediately decided that he did not like Frieza.

Frieza could say the same. Something about Vegeta rubbed him the wrong way. "The pleasure is all mine. Bulma did indeed mention a new neighbor of ours. Perhaps we'll have a chance to better get to know one another."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes before looking away. "Perhaps," he mumbled.

* * *

Bulma looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup artist had managed to once again make her look like something out of a futuristic fantasy. She had become known for her elaborate makeup during her performances. Dramatic eye makeup and outlandish hair were part of her _act_. Sighing, Bulma looked down at her bare arms. Her eyes fell to the purplish bruises around her wrists against her pale skin. They were painfully noticeable. Sighing, she reached for her fingerless black gloves just as Juu entered the dressing room.

"Bulma, they're ready for..." Juu stopped talking when she saw Bulma's wrist. Bulma immediately tried to cover her wrist with the gloves. Juu stalked forward and took Bulma's arm in her own. "What the hell is this?" She looked at both of Bulma's wrists. "Bulma?"

The pianist snatched her arms out of Juu's hands and went back to slipping her gloves on. "It's nothing you need to worry about, Juu. I can still play perfectly fine." Bulma got to her feet. "Could you help me with the rose?" she asked, holding out a white rose.

Juu frowned but did as she was told. Once the white rose had been placed in Bulma's extravagant updo, she took a few steps back to admire Bulma's outfit. Her blue-haired friend wore a halter gown. The skirt was white with a layer of black organza surrounding it. The bodice was embellished with appliques. There was a small train, but nothing too long. Juu nodded her approval. Bulma nodded as well and turned to leave the room. Juu watched her best friend go with narrowed eyes.

_This isn't over yet, Bulma. Not by a long shot_.

* * *

As the lights dimmed, the audience hushed. A single spotlight came on and shone down on the closed curtain. There was little sound as the curtain opened to reveal a black grand piano sitting lonely on the large stage. After a few moments of silence, a silhouette could be seen entering the stage left.

Vegeta did not clap as Bulma took her seat like everyone else. He could hear the excitement from Goku and Chichi beside him. Chichi was saying how beautiful Bulma's dress was while Goku was wondering what she would play. Vegeta concentrated on the woman far below him on the stage. She positioned her hands over the ivory keys. After a full 30 seconds, she began to play.

While it was definitely beautiful, the songs Bulma played were full of all the wrong emotions. There was clearly anger and sadness. What stuck out to Vegeta the most was that _loneliness_ was among the emotions emanating through her music. How could someone like her be lonely? Vegeta looked over at the others and saw that Goku's smile had disappeared and Chichi had been moved to tears.

* * *

The concert lasted about 45 minutes. Once she finished, Bulma placed her hands in her lap and remained still for a moment. The audience erupted into applause and gave her a standing ovation. Bulma rose from the bench and walked to the front of the stage. With a straight face, she took a few bows. When she gathered a few of the stuffed animals thrown on stage, she finally smiled out at her audience. With a wave, she left the stage.

The hall was still clapping once Bulma was off the stage. She stepped behind the curtains and saw Juu smiling at her. "As usual, that was perfect. Let's hurry. We've got twenty minutes to get you changed and to the hotel for the party," she said. Bulma nodded and her stylist was already starting to undress her as they entered the elevator towards the dressing rooms.

* * *

"Will you all be attending the after party as well?" Frieza asked as he rose from his seat. "I'm sure Bulma would be happy to see you all there. She did invite you after all."

"Yeah we are. The tickets she gave us have the location of the party on them. We'll see you there," Goku said. Frieza nodded and left the room humming happily to himself.

Chichi shivered as the door to the suite closed. "Even after all these years, he still gives me the creeps. What does Bulma see in that snake?"

"Come on, Chi. He's not that bad." Goku held out his hand and helped Chichi from her seat.

"He's a horrible man, Goku. Something about him just rubs me the wrong way. I'm a great judge of character and that man has never been any good. You seem to have forgotten the way he treated Bulma at our wedding. He was abhorrent."

Vegeta snorted as he got to his feet. "You say you're an excellent judge of character but always yell at me about my _character_. Why do you allow me around if I'm so terrible?" he asked.

Chichi crossed her arms. "Vegeta, you are many things but a man of questionable character you are not. You at least own your faults to a point. And though you are definitely one of Goku's more... unsavory friends, you are at least trustworthy and dependable."

"Yeah! You did help deliver Gohan," Goku said as he clapped a hand on Vegeta's shoulder.

Vegeta shrugged him off. "A truly traumatizing experience, I assure you," he said with a small shudder.

* * *

Bulma was putting on a new pair of fingerless gloves when the door to her dressing room opened. Juu had left her alone to go make sure her ride was ready. She looked over the top of the bouquets to see Frieza entering the room. She slipped on the last glove and stood up. "I must say that you've outdone yourself with these roses. Any particular reason for so many?" she asked as Frieza approached her. He stopped in front of her and leaned in for a kiss. Bulma immediately diverted her head. "I just got my makeup redone, Frieza."

Frieza frowned momentarily but the expression was short-lived. He watched as Bulma walked around him and began gathering her wristlet and cellphone. He reached in his pocket. "Bulma, there's something I've been meaning to ask."

"What's that?" Bulma held her flowy white dress up and slipped on her heels. She faced Frieza to see him holding out a small jewelry box. "What's that?" she repeated. Frieza placed the box in her hand. Bulma sighed inwardly and opened it.

"Well?"

Bulma struggled to find words as she stared at the impressive engagement ring. It was at least 10 carats. She found herself wondering where Frieza got the money to buy such a ring. "I... don't know what to say, Frieza. It's beautiful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Frieza took the ring from her and slid it on her finger. "Just say..."

"Bulma, we're ready for you. Hi, Frieza. Will you be riding with us?" Juu entered the room with a few other men. She began directing them to gather the flowers up and where to put them.

"No, I'll drive there myself." Frieza pecked Bulma on her forehead. "See you there."

Juu came up beside Bulma as Frieza left the room. "Seems like he was in a good mood. Any reason why?" She looked at Bulma. Even with the faint blush on her cheeks, Bulma looked incredibly pale.

The pianist shook her head slowly. "No reason that I can think of. Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2: The Artist

**Symphonic Artistry**

**Chapter 2: The Artist**

* * *

Vegeta grabbed a champagne flute off a passing waiter's tray. He could do without the drink but he doubted the bar had what he wanted. _I could always go to the hotel bar_, he thought. Then he caught sight of Goku and Chichi. Chichi in particular would talk his ear off if he went to get hard liquor. So, he gulped the champagne down in one swallow and placed the flute on another passing waiter's tray.

The after party was a sight to behold. The moment the blue-haired pianist came through the doors, the invited guests swarmed around her like she was their sun. Considering how reserved she appeared, Bulma handled the situation quite well with smiles and laughter. Unlike the people who surrounded her, Vegeta thought she was painfully transparent.

"Has she always looked like she would rather jump off a bridge, Kakarrot?" Vegeta asked. He could feel Goku's presence behind him.

Goku looked in Bulma's direction. She was standing next to Frieza and talking to the others in the room. "No. She was actually a pretty wild in high school. She loved partying and sneaking out to clubs." He noticed the look Vegeta was giving him. "She wasn't loose or anything like that. She just liked to have a good time. Her parents died right before me and Chi got married. After that, the last time we saw her was our wedding day."

Vegeta grunted. "Losing one's family tends to mellow a person out," he mumbled.

* * *

Bulma was growing tired of talking with the usual suspects of these functions; socialites and celebrities. She really just wanted to catch up with her friends. Since Frieza felt the need to announce their _engagement_, everyone had wanted to see the ring. She glanced around the room, searching for that unmistakable head of hair. She spotted Goku and excused herself quickly.

"I see you guys made it," Bulma said as she tapped Goku on the shoulder. He turned around and revealed Chichi. Bulma smiled and the two hugged one another. "It's been far too long since I've seen you guys."

Chichi laughed. "Well, you're the one who went and became all famous on us. Your playing was magnificent," she said.

"I'm glad you liked it, Chi. How have you been?"

"Well, Goku and I just welcomed out little boy into the world a few months ago..."

Bulma seemed genuinely surprised. "You had a baby?" she exclaimed. She glared at Goku and smacked him playfully on the arm. "Why didn't you tell me, you big lug? I could've brought a gift!"

"I didn't think it was important at the time. Besides, Chichi would've probably wanted to break the news to you anyway. She never misses a chance to show off Gohan," Goku said, laughing at Bulma's futile attempts at battery.

"_Gohan_? You named him after your grandfather? That's so sweet." Bulma looked back at Chichi. "Do you have any pictures of him yet?"

Chichi gasped. "Do I have _pictures_?" She opened her wristlet and pulled out what amounted to a wallet full of photos. "What kind of question is that? Of course I have pictures!"

Bulma took the wallet from Chichi and flipped through the pictures. Gohan was a chunky baby who resembled both of his parents. Chichi had candid pictures as well as professional pictures. They were marked by how many days, weeks, and months old the baby was. "Geez, Chi. How did you get so many professionally done? Even I don't take this many pictures."

"Well, when you have friends in certain professions," she motioned in Vegeta's direction, "you can afford to splurge a bit," she said with a wink.

The pianist looked in Vegeta's direction. Despite his hair, Bulma had not noticed him. He blended into the crowd seamlessly. "I didn't know he came," she whispered. "Wait, he took these pictures? I thought he was just an artist." She handed the photos back to Chichi.

"Well, isn't a photographer an artist too? Vegeta paints more, but he takes photos as well. You should see those albums of his. If he ever shows you, make sure they aren't the _black_ albums. If the album is made of black leather, insist on looking at another one."

Bulma raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "Why?"

"Don't worry about it. Come on. Let's go talk to him. Vegeta!"

Vegeta noticed the women moving towards him. He thought about ignoring them and heading to the hotel bar for a proper drink, but then he saw the way Bulma was looking at him. She seemed almost happy. The expression she wore was a far cry from the somber, forced happiness she displayed among her peers. It appeared that being among friends brightened her mood considerably.

"Hi, Mr. Ouji. I hope you enjoyed the concert," Bulma said. For some reason, she felt shy around him. It was their third meeting in two days, but she still felt slightly intimidated by him.

_Something about his eyes. His gaze is so... disarming_, she thought. Then she realized that she had been staring and quickly looked elsewhere.

The flame-haired one smirked when he noticed Bulma's staring. "It was a... haunting experience," he said.

Bulma appeared confused for a moment. "Haunting? That's definitely one of the more original descriptions of my music. I've gotten sultry, dulcet, melodious, beautiful, enchanting, and a host of other adjectives. However, _haunting_ was definitely not among them."

"Then perhaps the right people have not been reviewing your music." Vegeta finished off his drink and sat the glass down on a passing waiter's tray.

"Are you saying my music is terrible?" Bulma could feel her cheeks getting hot. She did not know if she was offended or not, but she did not like this critiquing of her work in the least. Perhaps it was because such a critique was coming from someone she barely knew.

"I said it was _haunting_, woman. That doesn't imply _terrible_ in the least. That is the feeling your music gives. It most certainly isn't music one would play on a joyous occasion," Vegeta replied.

Bulma held her head high. "You certainly have a way with words, Mr. Ouji."

"I told you to call me _Vegeta_, woman." Vegeta noticed the ring on Bulma's finger. "That wasn't there yesterday. I take it your partner gave it to you," he stated. He watched Bulma looked down at her left hand. Before she could reply to him, Chichi held up Bulma's hand and examined the ring.

"Bulma, did Frieza give you this? Is that what all that extra fuss was about when you walked in?" Chichi asked. She noticed the way Bulma gently, but urgently pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"No, it's fine, Chi. Yes, Frieza proposed to me after the concert." Bulma looked at the ring. "I actually never really said yes..."

Chichi's gasp was so loud that some people turned to look at her. She glared right back at them before turning her attention back to Bulma. "You didn't say yes?"

Bulma shrugged. "Frieza really didn't give me a chance to answer. He just kinda put it on and here I am."

"Well, do you want to?" Goku asked.

For some reason, the question took Bulma by surprise. She looked pointedly at Goku as if he had said something offensive. He shrugged and she glanced back down at the ring on her finger. "I... guess." Even Bulma had to inwardly sigh at her less than emphatic answer. Instead, she smiled and looked back at Chichi. "Enough about me. Tell me more about that baby of yours." Bulma took Chichi by the hand and led her towards the bar.

Goku and Vegeta watched the women walk away in silence. Vegeta grunted and turned away from them. He began walking towards the exit. Goku turned to face him. "Where are you going, Vegeta?"

"To the bar to get something real to drink. That sparkling water barely wet my whistle."

"Don't you have to drive?"

"No." With that, Vegeta was gone out of the room.

* * *

Bulma noticed Vegeta leave, but did not say anything to Chichi. Juu had come over with a few friends and began speaking with Chichi. Bulma smiled when she noticed that Juu and Chichi seemed to get along.

"You aren't seeing anyone? With that face, I'm surprised they aren't beating your door down," Chichi said with a small laugh.

Juu smirked and shook her head. "After my last relationship..."

"Juu, you can't even call that a relationship. You were fuck buddies," Bulma said airily. All heads turned towards Bulma. The pianist gulped down the rest of her red wine. "What? I was just stating the truth. That was anything but a relationship."

"To some extent, she's right. Still, I did like him, but not very much. I have a habit of going after these tall, dark, and handsome types that always turn out to be cocky jackasses. I have a weakness for a chiseled jaw and tight abs. I don't know how they always seem to find me."

"That's because you're looking in the wrong place, dear. If you want someone to have a decent relationship with, look somewhere besides at these functions. For instance, try the library," Chichi replied.

"The library? Who could she possibly find in the library?" the dark-haired vixen beside Juu asked.

Chichi giggled. "I can tell you what you won't find, Mai..."

* * *

Vegeta slid into the barstool out in the hotel bar. The bartender walked over to him and leaned forward. "Whiskey on the rocks," Vegeta said while reaching for the bowl of peanuts. The bartender nodded and moved to fix his drink. A few moments later, the bartender returned with his drink. Vegeta paid and swiveled in his seat to look at the surrounding area. It was mostly deserted except for the odd businessman or two. They mostly stayed in the armchairs near the mounted flat screen television.

Grabbing a handful of peanuts, Vegeta ate a few and took a gulp of his whiskey. He enjoyed the fire going down his throat for a moment. He told Goku the truth; he would not be driving back to the brownstone he just moved into. A few blocks down from the hotel, Vegeta still owned his old loft. He had wanted to rent it out, but figured that he could still use it to do his work in. Luckily, he had not moved the furniture, choosing instead to buy whole new sets for his new brownstone.

_That bed is looking pretty good right about now_, he thought. The day had been long and he could still hear Bulma's music in his head for whatever reason. He smirked when he thought of how she had come alive when she thought he had insulted her music. For that short moment, he could see what Goku had been talking about. She was definitely a spitfire.

A purple-haired woman pushed through the revolving door of the bar, interrupting the soothing silence. She was giggling drunkenly. Vegeta vaguely remembered seeing her at the party. He took another sip of his whiskey as another person came through the door. The whiskey was on its way down when Vegeta realized it was Bulma's _partner_. He kept the glass to his face as he watched the man grab the woman around the waist. He pulled her roughly against him. Sighing, Vegeta turned around in his stool and ordered another drink.

As the bartender fixed his drink, Vegeta watched the other two make their way to the elevator across the room. When the door opened, the woman pushed Bulma's _partner_ into it and pounced on him. A blind man could see what was going on between the two. Vegeta shook his head as the bartender returned with his drink. _Disgusting. He just asked the woman for her hand_, he thought. He held the glass at his lips for a moment, thinking if he should tell. _Not my problem_, he thought with a shrug. He downed the whiskey in one gulp, paid, and left the bar.

* * *

Bulma glanced around the emptying room. There were only a few stragglers left. The waiters were beginning to clean the room. Goku and Chichi had already left and she had not seen Vegeta since they last spoke. _Where the hell is Frieza_?

"I'm ready to go. Would you like me to take you?" Juu asked as she made her way back over to Bulma. The pianist shook her head. "Well, let me know when you get home. A text or call will do. Night." Juu waved and left the ballroom.

Frustrated, Bulma stood around for another few minutes. Then she huffed and left the ballroom. Just as she was walking to the foyer of the hotel, Frieza was coming from the bar. He smiled when he saw her. He was only 10 feet from her when Bulma spotted the red smear on his face. She frowned momentarily but it was immediately replaced when Frieza was directly in front of her.

"Looks like you managed to get that cherry syrup from the cake on your face," Bulma said as she motioned to the stain on his face. Frieza appeared confused for a moment. Sighing, Bulma opened her wristlet and produced a handkerchief. She wiped the smear away. "There you go."

Frieza leaned forward and gave her a small peck on the cheek. "Thanks. You ready?"

"I was ready an hour ago, dear," Bulma said with a forced smile.

* * *

Goku pushed the slightly ajar nursery door open quietly. The room was dark except for a small nightlight on the side of the room opposite the crib. Chichi was standing by the crib, holding their infant son. The baby had woken up the moment his parents walked in the house. Now, Chichi was holding him and trying to get him to sleep. When Chichi turned her back to the door, little Gohan caught sight of his father and began squirming to reach for him.

Chichi noticed Gohan sudden movement. He had almost been asleep. What happened? She turned to see Goku standing in the doorway. "Goku! You're not helping! You know how excited he gets when he sees you!" Chichi held her son out at an arm's length. Gohan was giggling and still reaching for his father. Exhausted, Chichi marched over to Goku and practically dumped the baby in his arms. "You get him to sleep. I'm tired and I think I drank a little too much of that sparkling cider." Chichi left the room.

Goku looked down at his son, who was now finding his spit bubbles interesting. "Let's get you to sleep, little man."

It was not until after Chichi had changed and was currently brushing her hair that Goku finally dragged himself into their bedroom. She smirked triumphantly at the decidedly beat expression on his face. "Not so easy trying to get Gohan to sleep, is it? Maybe now you'll appreciate my talent for it a bit more."

"Where does he get the energy?" Goku whined as he began undressing. "I feel like babies need far less sleep than the average human. Gohan'll be back awake in two hours max."

"And in two hours max, you will be the one getting up to put him back to sleep." Chichi smiled when she saw the exasperated look on Goku's face in the mirror. She sat the brush down and began braiding her hair. "I'm going to stop by Bulma's tomorrow afternoon. I'll see if she has any ideas about her wed... What's with the face?"

Goku pulled on his pajama pants and walked over to the vanity Chichi sat at. He watched her finish the long braid and stand to face him. "I don't know about that. She didn't exactly look ecstatic about being engaged to Frieza."

"Well, that's the other reason I'm going over. I want to see if this is something she wants. Maybe she'll show a bit more emotion now that she's out of the spotlight. Plus, I don't think Frieza will be around in the middle of the day. I'll take Gohan along so she can meet him," Chichi said. She walked around Goku towards their bed. "Now come and help me _warm_ these sheets."

* * *

Puella heard the doorbell ring as she was cleaning the kitchen. Music was coming from the parlor, so she figured Bulma could not have heard it. It was that or she was deliberately ignoring it. Her assistant was not due for another hour or so, so who could it be? Puella wiped her hands on her apron as she headed towards the door. She pulled the large door open and saw a somewhat familiar face.

"Hi! Is Bulma home?"

"May I ask who is calling on her?" Puella asked, looking over the visitor. She held a bundled up baby in her arms. All Puella could make out were his large eyes.

"Oh! I'm Chichi... Is that her playing?" Chichi practically pushed herself past Puella as she entered the room.

The name sounded familiar; Puella was sure she had heard it somewhere before. _Perhaps one of Miss Bulma's friends from her school years_, she reasoned. She shut the door and followed after Chichi.

Chichi followed the sound of Bulma's playing. She came to the wooden doors leading to the parlor and stood there listening. She smirked and opened the door quietly. As expected, Bulma was sitting at the piano. She was staring straight ahead out the window, but her fingers masterfully flew across the keys, never missing a note. Chichi moved silently towards a couch behind Bulma and sat down softly.

The pianist could sense the presence behind her and simply smiled. "Nice of you to visit, Chichi," she said without pausing.

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. What troubles you?" Chichi asked.

"Why would you think something troubles me?"

"Bulma, everyone knows you only play Beethoven when you're in a bad mood. This is your way of brooding. You and Vegeta have the strangest ways of expressing your feelings. He takes pictures of naked women and you play Beethoven sonatas." A series of bad notes startled Chichi. "Well, now I know something's wrong. You can play that song in your sleep."

Bulma shook her head and gathered herself. She turned on her stool and faced Chichi. "It's nothing. But, you said Vegeta takes pictures of naked girls?"

Chichi raised an eyebrow and sat Gohan beside her on the sofa. She started removing his little coat and hat. "Well, it isn't like those foul magazines. But, whenever he gets into one of his brooding moods, he goes out, finds some girl willing to make a few bucks, and he takes pictures of her. He said something about the female form being _comforting_."

"Are you sure he wasn't just being a pervert?" Bulma turned around and began playing again. She moved ahead to a less dreary part of the sonata she was playing. The music seemed to please the little boy behind her as he started clapping and giggling.

"I think Gohan likes this song." Chichi sat back and listened as Bulma completed the sonata.

Bulma stood and walked over to the sofa. She sat down next to the baby. "So you're little Gohan. Your pictures do not do you justice," she said as she picked up the baby. Gohan gurgled and giggled as Bulma played with him.

Chichi watched with a smile. "Now that you're getting married, could we expect to see some little ones in the near future?"

"Babies? Don't make me laugh, Chi. Frieza hates children with the fire of a thousand suns. I'm pretty sure if there was a fast forward button on babies, he would not hesitate to push it until they were eighteen," Bulma replied.

"I see. But, do _you_ want children, Bulma? This is something you both need to agree on before you get married. I mean, I was hesitant about having Gohan so soon, but Goku was all too eager. He was more excited than I was when I told him about my pregnancy."

Bulma watched as Gohan snuggled closer to her in her arms. "Well, I do want kids if only to play them lullabies on my piano. Besides, I think motherhood would do wonders for my music. I've always written the best songs when I'm happy..."

"That brings me to another point." Chichi took Gohan from Bulma and sat him on the sofa. She took Bulma's hands into her own. "Are you happy, Bulma?"

The question took Bulma by surprise. "Of... Of course I am, Chichi. Why wouldn't I be? I just got engaged. My records are selling well. My concert received great reviews in the paper... Things are great," she replied.

Chichi stared at Bulma for a moment. The other woman smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. In fact, Bulma's eyes remained very sad and dull. Instead of pushing her further, Chichi simply nodded. _She'll talk when she's good and ready to. No point in pushing her further than she's willing to go right now_.

"I understand. So, when do you want to start shopping for dresses?"

"Dresses? Wedding dresses?" Bulma looked away from her friend. "I just don't have the time to..."

"Sure you do! Come on!" Chichi quickly bundled Gohan back up and pulled Bulma to her feet. "Let's go! We'll take my car."

* * *

Vegeta was ascending the stoop to his own brownstone when he saw Chichi exit from next door. She was talking loudly about dresses or something. The blue-haired woman followed after her, locking to door before descending the steps to Chichi's car. Vegeta had hoped to go unnoticed as he tried to open his front door, but Gohan saw him and the baby squealed in delight.

Chichi turned her head to see what Gohan was so happy about. "Good afternoon, Vegeta!" she called and she opened the door to her car. "I'm surprised to see you out and about today!"

Rolling his eyes, Vegeta kicked his front door to get it to budge. "I live here, harpy. What could possibly be so surprising about me being here?" He pushed against the door a few more times. It still would not open. "Fucking stupid door," he muttered.

"Excuse me."

Vegeta looked over his shoulder to see Bulma standing behind him. He had not even heard her come up behind him. "What is it, woman?"

Bulma ignored his terse tone and stepped past him while rolling her eyes. She took hold of the elaborate doorknob with her right hand and pulled the door forward. Then she pulled upward on the doorknob and kicked the bottom of the door. It opened. She stepped back and gestured towards the door. "My door had the same problem. They're really old doors and sometimes the wood swells."

"Hn," Vegeta murmured, looking at the sides of the doorway. The wood had definitely swollen slightly.

"Well, um, see you later." Bulma turned around and made a hasty exit towards Chichi's car.

Vegeta stood at his door as Chichi and Bulma drove off. Shaking his head, he went inside his house. As he sat his keys on a table and continued to the kitchen. His brownstone was more modern than Bulma's. He'd done a massive renovation before moving in. He walked up the stairs to the top floor of the brownstone. The walls had been knocked out and the entire floor was one single room. Most of Vegeta's artwork and supplies resided in this room. There was also a mattress in the farthest corner of the room.

The artist walked up to a covered 20x30 canvas. He picked it up and hauled it into one of the many easels in the room. He took the dark cover off of it, revealing a black and white watercolor. Vegeta rarely did watercolors, but they seemed to be quite popular with his buyers. While they were popular, they did not sell for as much as his oil paintings. He stood back and observed the finished painting. He had half a mind to scrap it altogether. Just as he was reaching to take it off the easel, his cell started to vibrate in his pocket. Vegeta picked it up and put it to his ear.

"_I really wish you'd at least answer when you pick up_," the voice came through.

"Why? You already know I've picked up," Vegeta said in return.

There was a sigh on the other end. "_Whatever, Vegeta. Do you have anything for me? Some dealers are making offers_."

Vegeta briefly contemplated lying about the watercolor. He knew his agent would never get off his back about it, though. "I've got a new watercolor that's finished."

"_That's great! I'll send someone for it. How's the new place?_"

"Spacious." Vegeta turned away from the watercolor. "What do you really want, cue ball?"

"_Is it really so hard to say my name? I've been your agent for years and you never call me by my name. I'm beginning to believe that you don't even remember what it is_."

"I know what your name is, cue ball. I just don't care to call you by it. Now what is it that you really called for? You never call to ask if I'm done with a new painting. You just come and get them. So what is it?"

There was a long silence on the other end. "_Well, uh, I might have a job for you. It's very, very unorthodox though. Unorthodox for you, at least._"

Vegeta snorted. "Just cut to the chase, cue ball."

"_A production company is looking for someone to design stage sets. They want full backdrops and stuff like that. They're putting on some sort of show; a ballet, I think. I told them that I might have someone who would be interested in it so I'd give them a call within a few days. What do you think?_"

"I'm not an interior designer, cue ball."

_"But, you paint all the walls in your own homes. You couldn't paint a few backdrops? It's an even better way to get your art out there. Imagine if this show went on the road! It could be great!_" His agent sounded extremely excited. When Vegeta said nothing, he sighed again. "_They're willing to pay an awful lot for this._"

Vegeta exhaled loudly. "I want full creative control once I know what the ballet is about. I don't want censorship or anything," he said.

"_Absolutely! I know you wouldn't have it any other way. But, there's one thing. You may not be censored, but your paintings must fit a certain concept. Everything in this show is being designed from the ground up. The dancers, wardrobe, choreography... All of it must fit one thing._"

"What's that?"

"_The music._"

* * *

Bulma and Chichi watched as Juu sat down with them at the coffee shop they stopped at. Gohan was sleeping in his stroller. Bulma's assistant had called to meet up with Bulma since she was not at home. Finding out that they were on a lunch break, Juu said she would meet them there.

"You guys haven't been waiting long, have you?" Juu asked. A waiter came up to her. "Just a cup of coffee."

Chichi took in Juu's appearance. She wore a plaid jumper with a gray shirt underneath it. Black tights and boots accompanied the outfit. "You have no coat on. It's too cold to be walking around like that."

"I'll be fine. I've worn less in colder weather before. Bulma, I came across a new gig for you. It's totally different than anything you've ever done before." The waiter sat Juu's coffee down. She immediately began filling it with cream and sugar. "It's for a ballet."

Bulma nearly choked on the salad she was eating. "A _ballet_? Juu, I can't compose music for a ballet!"

"Sure you can. The producers asked for you especially. They've offered this job to no one else. It's being kept in secret except to those involved. Everything is being based off of the _music_. You have almost complete control of how this show will play out." Juu took a sip of her coffee. "It's a perfect chance for your music to reach a broader audience."

The pianist shook her head. "Either way it goes, it takes months to compose an entire ballet, Juu. It's like composing a symphony. Am I composing for an orchestra or am I composing just for the piano? These are all very important questions that I bet you didn't ask."

Juu smirked. "Of course I asked. I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't get every detail down. They want the music to be for a solo piano. You won't have to play it, though. The music to this production must come first. The choreography and costumes will all fit the music. Even the settings will fit the music. You pretty much have complete control of how this production will look, feel, and sound."

"That's a lot of pressure to put on the composer," Chichi said. "How soon does something like this have to be done?"

"You'll be working with the set designer simultaneously as the music comes together. They hope to open the show by the summer. So about six or seven months. What do you think?"

Bulma finished her salad and thought for a moment. She was capable of churning out new music relatively fast. But something like this could not be just thrown together. _I'm actually a little excited about this_.

"I'll do it."

"Great. I'll give them a call. By the way, what have you guys been up to all day?" Juu asked.

Chichi smiled and looked at Bulma. "We went to a few wedding boutiques. Bulma did not try anything on, though," she answered. She noticed the way Juu's face darkened. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Juu just isn't really a fan of Frieza. She only puts up with him because of me," Bulma said.

"Bulma is severely understating it." Juu took her eyes off of Bulma and looked at Chichi. "I've been saying since I started working for her that Frieza is nothing but bad news. Look at her! She can have any man she wants and she chooses a womanizing, pigheaded, alcoholic asshole. It astounds me," Juu said. She started chugging her coffee again.

Chichi glanced back at Bulma, who was playing with the ice in her lemonade. "I see."

Wanting desperately to change the subject, Bulma finished off her lemonade and smiled at Juu. "Do you know who else will be working on the ballet?"

Juu narrowed her eyes at Bulma. She would play along for now. "No. This project is being kept secret. I don't know for what reason, though. I'm sure when you meet with the producers that they'll want you to sign some document to keep you from talking. But this production really depends on the music you write."

"Are you trying to say something, Juu?"

"Nope. Just try not to make it dreary and sad."

* * *

Vegeta was sitting out on his stoop with a sketchpad and a pencil. He kept looking up every now and then as his hand flew across the pad. He was shading when he heard a car pull up in front of the brownstone next to his. He glanced up. Bulma was waving goodbye to Chichi and Gohan. Chichi pulled off giving him a wave. Vegeta nodded and looked back down at his pad.

"Hi, Vegeta!" Bulma said from her own stoop. She had just noticed his hair. Before she put her key in the door, she heard Vegeta grunt his greeting. She was almost surprised he responded. She'd fully been expecting him to completely ignore her. Bulma peered over the edge of her stoop. "Why are you sitting out here?"

The artist rolled his eyes. "I'm minding my business, woman," he retorted rudely. He could practically feel Bulma burning holes in the side of his head. He mentally smirked, knowing he'd irritated her. She was so easily bothered. What he did not count on was hearing her footsteps and seeing her shadow appear on his stoop. Before he could barely look up at her, she'd snatched the sketchpad from him. "Woman, what the hell do you think..."

Bulma held up a hand that silenced Vegeta. She was looking at his sketch. Then she glanced up around them before examining the sketch again. "Wow. It almost looks like a picture. You're really good at this." Bulma began flipping through the pages. Vegeta lunged at her, trying to get his sketchpad back. Bulma skillfully dodged his attempts. "These are very nice, Vegeta. I'm impressed."

Vegeta finally managed to get the pad away from Bulma. She was smiling at him. He raised an eyebrow. The way the setting sun shone in her eyes almost made it seem as if they were twinkling. Her smile was real and it was only the second time Vegeta had seen her not force one on her face. "Meddling woman. You barely know me and you're already touching my possessions."

"Well, next time you shouldn't be so rude. I'm naturally a very curious person and I always find out what I want to know," she said while crossing her arms over her chest. "Besides, it's too cold out here for you to just be sitting in barely any clothes at all. Why don't you have a coat on?" She was referring to Vegeta simply wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white tank where she was almost completely bundled up.

"A coat would hinder my mobility as I draw. So would gloves." Vegeta sat back down. He watched as Bulma took a seat beside him. Ignoring her proximity, Vegeta found the page he'd been sketching on.

The pianist watched him as he continued his drawing. She noticed how focused he was and how his eyes would dart up every now and then to look at the scene. He almost reminded her of her own focus when she was playing or composing. Bulma felt she should remain quiet and just watched him. She found the silence comforting.

After about 15 minutes, Vegeta stopped drawing and sat back. Bulma looked over at him. He was looking straight ahead, but he was holding the sketchpad out just enough so she could see it. Smiling, she looked down at the finished product. "You even shaded it. The position of the light has been changing. How did you..."

"Eidetic memory," Vegeta said, cutting her off.

Bulma nodded. "But if you have a photographic memory, why are you sitting out here in the cold? You could've done this from inside."

Vegeta shrugged. "I like the outdoors. Sitting indoors becomes suffocating after a while."

His response was somewhat expected to Bulma. She said nothing else and looked over the sketch again. "It really is amazing. It's like looking at a black and white photo of the street. So detailed, too."

The artist took the page in his hand and tore it from the sketchpad. He held it out to Bulma. "Take it."

"Vegeta, I couldn't..."

"Take the drawing, woman," he said. Bulma nodded and took the page from him. Vegeta got to his feet and turned to go back inside. "Now get off my stoop." He opened the door to his brownstone.

"Vegeta," Bulma called as she got up herself. He faced her again. "Thanks." She smiled at him again. Then she turned and returned to her own stoop. The gesture took Vegeta by surprise again.

_She smiled_.


End file.
